


Coincidences

by Sunbomb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunbomb/pseuds/Sunbomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since Bokuto Koutaro left without a goodbye.</p>
<p>But this isn't a story about that.<br/>This is story about kitchen chairs, coffee mugs, and pseudo-scientific coincidences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coincidences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Niriiun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niriiun/gifts).



> *breakdances gently* happy birthday vinnie  
> also this is my first time ever posting something on ao3 please be gentle

“It’s not real!” 

“That’s such a Libra thing to say.”

Akaashi flips to the next chapter of his book, ducking to avoid a spoon-turned-projectile. His roommates are too busy bickering to notice; Konoha is laying on the table trying to rip the magazine from Komi, who is stretching his tiny arms as far back as they can go to keep Konoha away from his prize. A bowl clatters to the ground, spilling milk across the floor.

All in all, it’s a typical day Saturday morning.

Maybe that’s why it feels like something is missing?

Akaashi stares at the empty chair across from him over his coffee mug, breathing in the steam. The chair commands the best spot at their rickety kitchen table, the only one overlooking the glittering Tokyo skyline. It has long been abandoned. No one has sat there since their fourth roommate left.

_Respect for the dead._ Akaashi thinks, and takes a sip of coffee to swallow the bitterness.

“That’s not even the most interesting horoscope, in my opinion.” Says Komi, slapping the magazine against his hands once Konoha abandons his spot to clean up the mess. Akaashi says nothing. He will be told regardless of his participation in the conversation. It’s just how things work.

“Sagittarius.” Komi begins, glancing towards his silent roommate.

  
_Today, you will meet someone from your past. It is up to you to decide whether you will let them in, or leave them to rot. Whatever choice you make, make with confidence. But remember to be gentle. They still love you, aft—_  


  


Akaashi slams his book closed, cutting Komi off mid sentence.

The silence that follows is excruciating. Konoha whispers a curse from under the table.

Two years later and nothing has changed. It’s like they’re frozen in time, suspended in this kitchen by the ghost of a grudge. Akaashi can feel the resentment boiling under his fingertips, the heat spreading up his arms and settling in his chest. It presses against his heart, hot and angry, and makes him sick to his stomach. He feels trapped suddenly; caged by the walls, the air, the memories.

He walks to the door. No one follows him.

It’s been two years since Akaashi has seen Bokuto Koutaro. 

Akaashi Keiji will not be meeting anyone from his past today.

____

Akaashi rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. He tries to ignore the pressure on his lungs. He wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and dodges around people dawdling in the crosswalk, admiring the autumn leaves as they spiral towards the ground. The low hum of the city calms his nerves. He is invisible here. There’s no way that someone would come crashing back into his life now, especially not today.

Not that he should even be dwelling on something so preposterous. Horoscopes are a pseudoscience and any relations between Akaashi’s life and someone’s non-objective thoughts about the fate of his day are just coincidences. A coincidence. A remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection.

The chances of Bokuto coming back to Japan today and running into Akaashi on the street are infinitely small. Too small to be a coincidence, even. It would just be impossible. Akaashi looks into a shop window as he passes. The wind chimes sing gently and Akaashi’s heart cracks again.

If there was one thing Akaashi didn’t need right now, it was hope.

He had spent too long wishing and waiting, ripping pages out of the calendar and standing on the street corner telling himself it would be different today. Hope was paralyzing, and Akaashi can feel his heart freezing already. He shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps walking. 

____

_Two years ago, it was much colder. Akaashi bundled deeper into his coat. Bokuto looked unfazed, as he usually did, strutting around the sidewalk in just a t-shirt. They walked together for a while; Akaashi listening, Bokuto speaking. How it always was. How he always wanted it to be._

_Today would be their last day together for a month. Bokuto had been talking about his trip to New York for weeks, at every opportunity. Akaashi knew the entire itinerary and he wasn’t even attending. Before it seemed so far away, but the time had come._

_“Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind now?” Bokuto complained, crossing his arms over his chest. His skin was turning pink with the cold._

_Akaashi shook his head and kept going. Bokuto made a show of stepping on leaves while they walked, weaving off the sidewalk to pick up perfect specimens to give to Akaashi. This was normal, too. Akaashi had an entire book at home dedicated to pressed leaves._

_Their destination, a tiny cafe that claimed to be home to the best coffee in Tokyo, was a short walk from their apartment. If Akaashi looked back, he could see Konoha and Komi leaning out the window, making hearts with their hands. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to be any more nervous than he already was._

_Bokuto ordered his regular, Akaashi politely declined. He felt removed from himself; a ghost inhabiting the hollow confidence of his body. He kept his hands folded carefully in front of him on the table. “Bokuto-san, I need to tell you something before you leave.”_

_His fingertips were going numb. He wished he bought tea, just to hold it. Bokuto looked up with a smile, inhaling the steam curling up from his hot chocolate. He looked happy. Akaashi felt sick._

_He couldn’t get the words out, so there was silence between them for the first time since they met. It reminded Akaashi of summer mornings before practice, when the sun was just rising; stopping by the store to buy peaches and stretching out in the sweet, fragrant air. The memories tasted bittersweet in the back of his throat._

_“I like you.” Akaashi said bluntly. The words came out easy enough, but the confession ripped into Akaashi’s nerves and tore them to shreds. “I have for a long time. Since high school, at least. I know that this might seem a little out of the blue, but I wanted to tell you before you left. For selfish reasons, I suppose.”_

_Akaashi tried a smile. His chest ached from lack of oxygen, but he could barely breathe regardless. Bokuto set the cup down slowly, eyes wide. He wasn’t smiling back._

_“Oh.” Said Bokuto._

_Oh._

____

Akaashi didn’t go home that night.

____

He orders black coffee and reclines in the plush cafe chair. Not much has changed. Maybe this place is fixed in time too, just like the kitchen back home. Someone opens the door and the tiny bell jingles. They chat happily into the phone. Maybe it’s just Akaashi who is stuck.

Someone across the room laughs. Glasses clink. The bell jingles again. It sounds like wind chimes.

It’s been two years since Akaashi confessed to Bokuto and was greeted with the most terrified look he’s ever seen. It’s been two years since Akaashi ran away from this cafe, from his greatest fear coming to life before his eyes. It’s been two years since Bokuto left without a goodbye.

He was supposed to be gone for a month, but he never came back. How could that not be Akaashi’s fault?

Akaashi sighs, takes another sip from the dregs of his life. He used to drink tea, but that brings up too many memories now. He switched at the one year mark, the same day that he stood on the balcony with Konoha and Komi, book in hand, and dropped dried leaves into the wind.

He watches one fall past the window. He likes the way it pirouettes to the ground, dancing gently through the air to—

Akaashi Keiji drops his cup.

The leaf is caught by a tall man, who smiles so warmly that it lights up the sky. One of his eyes if half-closed, but Akaashi knows that it’s with excitement. Akaashi knows because he pointed it out once, while sitting in front of the volleyball gym.

Akaashi knows, because that was the first time he realized he was in love.

Bokuto twirls the leaf between his fingers and keeps walking.

A waitress comes by with a towel, helping Akaashi pick up broken porcelain pieces. She is saying something soft under her breath, “It happens all the time, don’t worry.” But it doesn’t happen all the time. Coincidences like this don’t happen. Akaashi can’t breathe. His throat closes. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until he drops the broken mug handle to the floor. The waitress looks concerned.

  


_Today, you will meet someone from your past. It is up to you to decide whether you will let them in, or leave them to rot. Whatever choice you make, make with confidence. But remember to be gentle. They still love you, after all. Everyone makes mistakes, but not everyone can fix them. You know what is best for you, Akaashi. You know what is best for him, too. Go get him._

Akaashi runs like he’s in highschool again, through alleys, past shops, past wind chimes that sing like bells in the wind, past streets filled with memories and dried leaves. He runs past Konoha and Komi, who smile at each other. Their laughs billow in the air like steam from mugs.

“I can’t believe it worked.” Says Konoha, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His fingers brush over a scrap of glossy paper torn out of a magazine. It makes him smile.

Komi puffs his chest. “I told you it would. I didn’t even get to finish reading what we wrote.”

They share another look. Laughter coming in puffs, they link arms again and keep walking.

Akaashi keeps running. He pulls out his keys once he’s on the stairs. There is no time for the elevator. He clutches the owl keychain like a lifeline. He opens the door. 

Bokuto doesn’t look that different, all things considered. Briefly, Akaashi considers the idea that their kitchen really is frozen in time. Bokuto is still tall; his hair is still the hot mess it’s always been. He looks tanner, stronger, warmer. The cold doesn’t pinch his skin pink anymore.

Akaashi stands in the doorway, face flushed like the sweet peaches they used to eat on sticky summer afternoons. Somewhere along the way, he lost his scarf, and the color has spread hot down his neck. He takes a step forward, directly into Bokuto’s hug and lets himself breathe for the first time in two years.

“I’m sorry.” Bokuto says.

Akaashi can feel it in his chest, the potential energy crackling to life. His nerves are livewires, white hot fire down his spine. He digs his fingers deep into Bokuto’s shoulders.

“Me too.” Says Akaashi. He means it.

This time it’s Bokuto who can’t get the words out.

There is silence between them for the second time since they met.

“I know this is a little late…” Boktuo begins with a rough laugh, holding Akaashi closer. His hug is like a death grip; a lifeline. “But I like you too. I wanted to tell you so many times. I would write out the text, or I would think about calling you, but I was so scared a-and they kept extending my visa and I’m really—”

Akaashi kisses him.

  


Bokuto tastes like all the things Akaashi was never able to say, all the memories and sweet summer evenings spent sitting together outside the school. He tastes like the two years they spent apart; like desperation and love, like the air leaving Akaashi’s lungs when the sigh building in his chest shudders through him.

He has waited for this moment for so long. Every night that Akaashi spent wishing and waiting fizzled under his fingertips when he cupped Bokuto’s face in his hands and ran his touch over the pieces of hair that gel missed. Akaashi had always imagined that holding Bokuto would feel like reaching out to touch the sun, but now that the man he loved was in his arms, it felt more like morning sunlight flickering through the curtains to kiss his face.

Neither of them run this time.


End file.
